


Us and Them

by MaeChrys



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Song fic, bit of a double personality disorder, not really happy thoughts, right after Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeChrys/pseuds/MaeChrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With big dark eyes now hurt from false hope.<br/>You understood how things were going.<br/>Big dark eyes, widened and empty.<br/>That’s what I see now, in a puddle of blood and brains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us and Them

  
_Us and Them_   
_And after all we're only ordinary men_   
_Me, and you_   
_God only knows it's not what we would choose to do_   
_Forward he cried from the rear_   
_And the front rank died_   
_And the General sat, as the lines on the map_   
_Moved from side to side_   


You know, Jim? I feel like an idiot. I didn’t make it, in the end. I couldn’t save you from yourself, and that was all I cared about. Saving Jim from Moriarty. Because I knew Jim, that boy with his big black eyes that looked at me sitting on the couch in the living room, the hair still ruffled up from the sex, breathing in deeply from the air of dawn, the boy that would punch me in the stomach when I started smoking in bed, bud he’d never wear off that smile of a kid who just stole jam from the jar, and he was so different from Moriarty who was walking out in daylight, sitting behind his desk in his Westwood, playing dices with the destiny of the world. When it was just us, just Jim and Seb, I was almost sure I could take you back, and see the High School guy again, the fascinatingly dark one, but then I’d see you in your office, looking down at the Thames through the window, I knew I had lost you again. You almost didn’t look t me, even though you couldn’t realize that. You were too much into your James Moriarty part, who just made it to the world of the grown-ups, to see the little Sebastian again. But you came to me that night, not to anyone else. I was the one opening up the door, because I waited up for you the whole night, and then I dried you up from the rain with the hair-dryer, and you were shivering, and I had never actually realized how small you were.

_You know, Seb? I am scared»_   
_«Scared? Whatever of?»_   
_«I don’t know if I am going to make it. If tomorrow Sherlock sees it, he would be stronger than me. I would have to die, to make the Game end»_   
_«Sod off. There is no game to end. If you don’t want to go, just don’t go»_

You looked at me in the worst way you could, and from Jim’s eyes I had seen Moriarty. You took your coffee, threw yourself on the couch and told me that I just couldn’t understand, and the Game was the most important thing, and then you kept on rambling and muttering some bullshit about the Order of Things and the Chaos of the Universe, but I wasn’t listening to you, you know I could never catch up with you when you started off your philosophic crap. I stood there, thinking how I had lost you. How now in my living room there was Moriarty, and I had no idea how to make him go away. I didn’t want him, I didn’t want his head on my chest when we curled up on the sofa. I wanted Jim. I always feared Moriarty, in the end. He scared me because he was taking Jim away from me, he was putting him in danger, and I couldn’t let it happen.  
And look how it ended up.

_«Seb. I never had a cigarette»_   
_«Mh. And?»_   
_«And tomorrow I could be dead. And I never had a cigarette»_   
_«Better. Cleaner lungs. And you are not going to die tomorrow, I’ll be there watching your ass. You have your whole life for your first cigarette ahead of you»_   
_«Seb?»_   
_«Mh?»_   
_«Can I have one?»_

I had taken the packet and handed you one. You were shaking, you know? You thought I wouldn’t have noticed, but you were shaking so damn hard. You had your eyes wet, and your lips were starting to tremble, but Moriarty was already winning over Jim, and he would never had let you cry, not even if you were to need it. You lit up your cigarette and downed your first smoke cloud. You started coughing like a baby, and asked me how could I take that stuff that tasted like rotten corpses and tar. Calm my nerves, I told you. Helps me think.  
You took another blow, and your expression was slightly less disgusted. By your fourth blow you looked like you had been smoking for ages. You told me that I was right, actually, it did help you think.

_«And you know what I am thinking about?»_   
_«What?»_   
_«I never said thank you. You worked your ass off for me, and I never did as much as saying thank you»_

I shrugged and got closer to you on the couch. Don’t worry, I whispered, I don’t need to hear it. You were still wet, but I was pretty sure that water on your cheeks wasn’t rain at all. And that made me feel good. It made me understand that Jim was still there, that Moriarty hadn’t won completely. That perhaps there was still some kind of hope, because Moriarty was sick, he would have destroyed the whole city to end his Game, but Jim, he wouldn’t have. Jim was still sane. I kissed you on your hair and I told you that the stars would not have fallen on our heads if you wanted to stay home with me, to lie in bed the whole day and order chinese for dinner, and they would have given it to us with one of those big red lanterns they gave you with big orders, one of those that projected ideograms on the walls if you lit the candle inside it, and we could have eaten it lying down watching some crap on the telly, and that God would not have punished us for that, because if God really needed to take his wrath down on us, he would have done that a long time ago. You remained silent for a moment, then you turned back to me and Moriarty was completely gone, without leaving the faintest trace. I smiled because I thought I made it, but you thought I was doing it to cheer you up.

_«You know something else I’ve never done?»_   
_«Grown eggplants? Run 20 miles? Get on the top of K2 and back? Eat a child?»_   
_«I never killed anyone»_   
_«Not true. Just today…»_   
_«No, Seb. You kill everyday. You do the dirty job. The only time I got my hands dirty I was 14, when I got my blood tests, and I almost passed out»_

Then we bursted out laughing, like two kids, hugging each other closely, and we fell on the carpet and the television was talking about some dust cleaner that cleaned your living room, your attic and might as well have cleaned your soul and we just laid tere, hugging and kissing each other on the top of our noses. I stood up and helped you do the same, we went to the bedroom, with its smell of lavender and cologne, and we laid on the sky-blue sheets of the bed.

_«And you know what else I’ve never done?»_   
_«You can’t say you’ve never had sex, because I personally took care of that»_   
_«Yeah, right»_

You held me close and threw my t-shirt away, and you didn’t say a word, and I was grateful for it, because I understood, and that was something none of us would ever have said it out loud. And i know that in that fast, brilliant head of yours you were wondering whether to say it because you had no other choices, because your time was running out, but perhaps you didn’t even mean it, because there was still that part of Moriarty inside you, because you were the same person, in the end, no matter how much I fought it, and I couldn’t stand it, while I was slowly kissing your neck and I know you were widening your eyes a little, when my hands ran down your chest and yours started fiddling with my hair.

_«Don’t be absurd. Thank you is enough»_

The next morning we are on Tower Bridge, watching the water running under us. I can already feel you slip away, in your big dark coat and in your greased hair (I remember what it was like yesterday night, ruffled under my fingers when you laid your head on my chest and asked for another cigarette, and then another kiss and then more and more and more), in your dark sunglasses, and because you are not speaking but you are smiling that ecstatic smile.  
You are just Moriarty, and I am just Moran, there is no space for Seb anymore, and I am not speaking either, waiting for orders, because I know we had our goodbye yesterday, Jim and Seb’s goodbye, because Moriarty and Moran’s will be nothing but a military gesture and a grimace. You are going to hunt a monster, but you don’t know that you are one yourself.

_«Good luck, Boss»  
«I don’t need luck. Don’t fail me, darling» _

And I hate it when you call me like that, you take my chin in your fingers like I am nothing but the last exotic beast you managed to tame. I lit up a cigarette for me, and you get closer, almost as if you wanted to breathe the smoke in, but you are here, with people passing on the Bridge and it looks like a scene from one of those old movies you watch late at night, you slip your hands on my hips and lean on to kiss my cheek, soft lips on my skin that is itchy from the stubble, and my hands grasp my rifle, and perhaps I am sucking in my breath too.  
Your hands press a little in my sides and your lips open up to bite me, and I feel like choking because I know you are still Moriarty, and I meant something for this version of you too, for this version that makes me feel scared - no, non scared. In awe.  
  
 _«…»_  
 _«…»_  
  
There is a silence between us and I’d want to break it, but then I light up another cigarette and you are already turning your back on me, calling a cab, and I look your silhouette disappear in the traffic, and my hands are cold, all of a sudden, because I don’t know if I am going to see you again tonight. And I don’t know what we will have in common, when you will have hunt your monster down. Because we didn’t speak about it. Because Jim is ignoring his monster just as much as Moriarty is obsessed by it.

_«And then they give you these red paper lanterns as a thank-you because you spent a shitload of money in their deep fried food, I suppose, and when you put a candle in it, if the room is dark enough, you see all those ideograms on the wall and nobody fucking knows what the hell they mean»  
«Mh. We should try it sometimes, Seb. It sounds… nice»_

Big dark eyes, softened with hope.  
It was like that, once.  
Big dark eyes, widened and empty.  
That’s what I see now, in a puddle of blood and brains.

_«Perhaps it was worth it. And if I really grasped the deep meaning of the biscuit, someone will end up shagged tonight»_   
_«Sebastian, don’t you think you’ve had a little too much to drink?»_   
_«Iiii really don’t think so»_

And now I look down fro the window, and the rifle is not in its case anymore, I threw it on the other side of the room half an hour ago. It’s just me, and I am not Sebastian anymore. I am not the Tiger. I am not Moran. I am nothing now. I am as cold as you are, and I would just want to come near you, touch you, clean the blood away from your hair just like when I was drying you up from the rain with the hair-dryer and tell you that it will all be alright, even though I know it’s a lie, and you do too, but it always works in movies, doesn’t it? But I don’t. I stay put, with the rifle pointed against John Watson, and I wait for the other one, for his monster to jump. You told me not to fail you, but my vision is foggy because Sebastian is crying while Moran is aiming at the target. Sebastian is the one who almost screamed when you shot yourself, almost yelled at you to tell you to stop. You took one of my guns. You killed yourself with one of my guns.  
No. You didn’t kill yourself. You killed the monster. You won, like you alway do. You saved yourself. It wasn’t Jim the one to shoot. Jim was only the one to fall.  
With big dark eyes now hurt from false hope.  
You understood how things were going.  
Big dark eyes, widened and empty.  
That’s what I see now, in a puddle of blood and brains.

 _«And what is this shit now?»_  
«Beautiful»  
 _«For Christ’s sake, Jim. You can’t really be watching this»  
«Shut up, Seb. It’s starting. Pass me the popcorn. You were right, this lantern is kinda beautiful»_

_“You know, Jim? I am scared. I am scared I am alone now. You know, Jim? I am scared. I am scared I’ve lost everything that kept me going. You know, Jim? I am scared. I am scared I condemned you to yourself”_

The lantern is hanging from the ceiling, and there is just too much food on the table and it smells like oil and fried and meat, and I know it’s going to rot, because there won’t be anyone there to eat it, even though I am here, but I just can’t. The fortune cookies are sitting in the plate, like they were trying to put up a sun. The paper lantern is the only thing to shine in the room. There are ideograms dancing on the walls. And I can guess what they mean.  
 _Death._  
 _Solitude._  
 _Regret._  
 _Memories._  
 _«And you know what else I have never done?…»_

The butt of all my cigarettes is falling the pork and the dust is cumulating up over the cookies, that I am never going to break. You’d yell at me for how I am behaving, I know. But here there is just darkness, the smell of smoke and those ideograms.  
And you eyes, that still seem to look at me, and look at the world out there, somewhere inside of me.

  
_Black and Blue_   
_And who knows which is which and who is who_   
_Up and Down_   
_And in the end it's only round and round and round_   
_Haven't you heard it's a battle of words_   
_The poster bearer cried_   
_Listen son, said the man with the gun_   
_There's room for you inside_   
_Down and Out_   
_It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about_   
_With, without_   
_And who'll deny that's what the fightings all about_   
_Get out of the way, it's a busy day_   
_And I've got things on my mind_   
_For want of the price of tea and a slice_   
_The old man died_   


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you if you managed to read it all. I am always happy to know what you think about it, so comment ahead!  
> The song is Us and Them, by Pink Floyd -M


End file.
